New Story and a Little Excerpt

August 29, 20184-30-6-00 PMRoom 204

With my new story Bachelors: Secrets about to go live, I thought I’d offer a little excerpt here on my blog.  If you like it, go check it out on Kindle for .99 or for free with Kindle Unlimited.

And now, without further ado:

***

I tried to pretend I didn’t feel Jason’s prick against my lower back as his fingers dug into my neck and shoulders.  The massage felt too good to make him stop.  Besides, Jason wasn’t the first “straight” guy I knew who got a little handsy after a few drinks.

“Feel good?”

My body felt like a mound of dough being kneaded beneath those powerful fingers. “Mm-hm,” I mumbled.

My tongue felt like lead in my mouth.

Jason’s fingers worked their magic down the base of my neck.  Goosebumps exploded all over my naked back, rippling down my arms.

“Blaine know how much stress you keep back here?” Jason’s deep bravado reverberated above me.

“He knows, but he – oh!”  Jason found a tension knot and worked at smoothing it out. “– he doesn’t have anything on you,” I finished weakly.

Jason just laughed, those skilled fingers tracing the length of my spine.  I thought about Blaine passed out in the next room.  My soon to be husband never could hold his booze. If he happened to wake up to find me laying shirtless on the floor, Jason straddling me, he’d totally freak.  Blaine had a jealous streak.  And he knew I was into guys like Jason.  Big, strapping man’s man type of guys. . . like mechanics.  I couldn’t help that mechanic just happened to be my future brother in law’s best friend.

Besides, I needed this.

The past few months had been hell.  The simple wedding Blaine and I had planned had somehow grown into an all-out affair in Vegas, complete with an Elvis impersonator and Blaine’s less than stable family.   At least Blaine agreed to a small bachelor party. A few friends. Some drinks. Everyone had a blast.  Even Blaine, who crashed before the party was over but who gave everyone a hug before stumbling off to bed – even Jason, who looked like he was getting just as blitzed but was handing it shades better than my fiancé.

“You’re crashing here,” Blaine slurred drunkenly, arms tangled around Jason’s thick neck. “No drive drunking on my watch, got it?”

Jason had laughed and slammed another shot of the whiskey he’d been working on all night. “You’re the boss!” he’d belted, nudging me as if to say, “right?”

It wasn’t until everyone left that Jason saw me rubbing the back of my neck and ordered me out of my shirt and onto the floor.  I felt a little awkward splayed out in front of him until those magical hands of his went to work.  The weight of him on top of me felt good and his cock . . . did Jason know he was sporting a boner?

My own cock twitched eagerly, sandwiched between me and the floor.   If Jason had me turn over right then he’d get a good look at it tenting out the front of my sleek, basketball shorts.

“Better?” Jason said, giving my ass a pat with one calloused hand.

God I loved homoerotic straight boys.

“Much,” I said, rubbing my neck to distract me from my erection. “Allison is probably in love, especially if you rub her down like that,” I laughed.

“We broke up,” Jason said off handed, like it was old news.

“Oh shit man, I didn’t know.”

Jason shrugged.  He was wearing a wife beater that had been under his oil stained work shirt and a pair of dirty jeans. He’d come straight from the garage he worked at to the party.  The only reason he showed at all was because Blaine’s brother Steve saw him out and about earlier in the day and invited him.  Otherwise, Blaine and I never saw Jason unless he was taking a look at one of our cars.

“Shit happens man,” Jason shrugged.

When he made to stand up he swayed on his feet. Thankfully the wall was there as a safety net to catch him. The whiskey was apparently catching up with him.

“Whoa, careful man.”

I stole the chance to adjust myself and pulled myself to my knees. . . crotch level with Jason. There was some definite bulge there.

“I’m good,”Jason chuckled. “Just gotta take a piss is all.”

“Bathroom’s down the hall and to the right.”

“Much obliged, sir,” Jason said with a cowboy-like nod before strutting away. Bow-legged as he was Jason even walked like a cowboy. I imagined that big, boulder butt of his crammed into a pair of leather, assless chaps and my dick jumped.

Like I said. . . I have a thing for the rugged type.

 

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Cumming Soon!

August 29, 20184-30-6-00 PMRoom 204

Greetings my playful pups, how I’ve missed you all!

Things have been crazy on my side of the keyboard.  Lots of writing, editing, and, yes, a little bit of publishing.  I have four stories going live on Amazon over the next few weeks (more on those in a moment), but the main reason I wanted to touch base today is because I need your input.

Okay, so first thing’s first.  Let’s talk about the sexy stories I’ll soon have at your fingertips.  First is my Bachelors Series – a trilogy of shorts that is loosely based off an experience I had a few years back IRL.  The story follows a pair of gay boys about to take the plunge into married life.  On the night of their bachelor party, both find themselves in a sticky situation with a friend.  Only problem is that this friend is straight.  Those lines are blurred in this erotic treat, which I plan on following up through my protagonists’ wedding day.  Will my boys be able to process what they’ve done and incorporate it into their relationship?  Or will their secrets tear them apart?

The other book, I am proud to announce, is my first anthology.  On Edge is a collection of stories I’ve comprised over the past few years about something that is strangely still taboo in our culture:  masturbation.  Male masturbation, to be exact, though I am currently working on other stories focusing solely (solo-ly?) on female masturbation.  I am also interested in collaborating with other writers who would like to see their work featured in this upcoming anthology.

Portions of the proceeds from On Edge will also be donated to charity, and this is where you come in!  A lot of people need a lot of help right now.  If anyone has ideas on organizations I should consider, please feel free to comment on this post.  Or drop me an email @ rflange24@gmail.com.  I love hearing from you!

Well, that’s about all I have for today.  I’ll post some free smut soon, along with book covers (like the one above) and a few sexy snippets from my upcoming stories.  Until then…

Some Kinky, Masturbatory Fun

Hey all!

Seems like ages since I posted some sexy smut.  Between gearing up for a new book launch, editing, writing, and the daily grind of the 9 to 5, I have been busy to say the least.  So today I thought I’d offer a snippet of one of the stories I wrote a few years ago. This story is still in its rough draft, and is just an excerpt, but I hope you enjoy anyways.

Until next month lovelies,

R.

Extorted

feet

Roderick’s face was already blazing as the ginger-haired hostess led us to our table.  The bistro I had chosen served brunch exclusively, and only on Sunday mornings.  The waiting list was a mile long but it was well worth the wait to see the blush creeping up Roderick’s neck, highlighting his cheeks.

“And is this to your liking, gentlemen?” the hostess asked.

It was a table set for two with a bleached linen tablecloth so long it almost touched the floors.  Warm sunlight spilled through the slanted window beside it.  The flame from a single taper candle in the center of the table danced the way I imagined Roderick’s cock would be dancing before long.

“Yes, this will do just fine,” I smiled.

Our hostess nodded, pulling our chairs out for us.  Roderick sat first, looking around nervously.  The bistro was an informal place, but Roderick had chosen a suit and tie anyway.  Armani, by the looks of it.  He looked dashing, if a little stiff around the collar.  I, on the other hand, had chosen something a little more breezy—short sleeve Polo, khaki shorts, and a pair of open-toed sandals over sockless, feet.

“Jonathan will be your server this afternoon,” our hostess said, handing us our menus.  “Enjoy your brunch.”

“Thank you.”

The hostess left us alone but I was too distracted to read the day’s specials.  I sensed Roderick’s rising anxiety across the table.  The way he refused to look at me.  How his fingers thrummed the sides of his menu.  I allowed the din of the bistro to grow in our silence.  The scraping of silverware as people ate.  The oblivious idle chatter around us.

“Have you decided?” I finally asked.

Roderick shook his head that he hadn’t.

“Then might I suggest the Shitake Sunrise,” I said.  “It is phenomenal here.”

“Excellent choice!” a new voice chimed.

It belonged to a smiling college-aged boy with a ruddy face and a mop of curly blonde hair.  In one hand he held a pair of empty wine glasses, the bottle of chateau noir I’d ordered with our reservations in the other.

“I’m Jonathan, and I’ll be taking care of you gentlemen,” Jonathan said.  “Am I to assume you have dined with us before?”

Jonathan was handsome and gay, everything I looked for in a man.  That boyish smile belonged on the cover of every GQ and Vanity Fair magazine cover ever made.  I let my eyes cascade over the broad chest stretching Jonathan’s white button up, the mounds of the bubble ass packed in the back of his black dress pants.

“Best brunch in the city,” I smiled.

Jonathan twisted the cork from the throat of the wine and held it out for me.  I inhaled the fragrant hints of forest floor, mushroom, and chocolate.  It smelled divine.  I watched him pour two glasses, offering me mine first.

“May I begin you gentlemen with some fresh fruit?”

“That sounds lovely, Jonathan.” I said.  “And my friend and I will be having the Shitake Sunrise together.”

“Very good, sir,” Jonathan said.

I smiled at the way the word “Sir” sounded on his pretty lips, wondering if it would be untoward to give another man my number while out with a client.  When he walked away, I caught myself checking out his ass again, wondering what those fleshy cheeks might look like after an hour or so alone with me.

The thought made me hard.

Roderick was still pensively lost in his menu.  I watched him, swirling my wine in my glass and wondering if Roderick’s cock was already hard from the anticipation.  I sipped my wine.

“Delicious!” I declared.  “Have a glass, Roderick.”

“No, thank you.”

His voice was a shaky whisper.

I nodded.  Setting the glass aside I fixed Roderick with a hard look until the other man met my stare.

“Say the word and we call this all off and go back to the hotel.”

“N-No,” Roderick stuttered, almost panicky.  “It’s just this is all so…so public.”

I allowed a smile to touch my lips, a hint of my wickedness.  “That’s the point, Mr. Senator, of public humiliation.”

Worry flashed in Roderick’s blue eyes.  The youngest man elected to the state senate, he hadn’t quite gotten used to being under the public’s microscope.  Sure, in every other facet of his life Roderick certainly seemed conservative enough—Masters in Political Science; family man; staunch republican.  There was just this one little thing.

A secret he was willing to pay dearly to keep.

Thankfully the young Senator found me when he did.  Roderick wasn’t my first time dealing in political anonymity.  I went to great lengths securing the meetings of each of my clients, at times placing entire continents between them and anyone they might know.  It was part of my price, along with their submission.  Roderick had to learn to trust me.

“You are safe with me, Roderick,” I said, the command in my voice snagging Roderick out of his whirling thoughts.  “If at any time you feel like you cannot go on, you know what to say.”

Color slashed across Roderick’s face all over again.  “Artichoke,” he whispered, looking at his clenched fists.

I smiled at his capitulation.  “Good boy.”

Jonathan was back with our fruit—a summer medley of grapes, strawberries, kiwi, and various melons is a sweet sauce.  Setting the bowls in front of us, I noticed the way our waiter’s eyes flashed between us as if sensing Roderick’s unease.  He looked down at me and I could almost see the boy’s runner’s body strung up in my dungeon.

“I took the liberty of putting in your omelets,” Jonathan said.  “Will there be anything else, sir?”

There was that word again.

“No, Jonathan, that will be all.”

I watched our waiter’s ass as he walked away, imagining the way it might feel beneath my open palm.  When I looked at Roderick he was watching me, the need in his blue eyes reaching across the table.

It was time.

Beneath the table, hidden by the long tablecloth, I slipped out of one of my sandals.   The warmth of the day, coupled by the walk to the bistro had made my size 14s damp with sweat.  I stroked my foot down the senator’s calf, hooking one long toe beneath the open mouth of his pants leg.  Roderick’s eyes went wide, his body stiff as I imagined his dick must be.

I allowed a satisfied chuckle and withdrew my foot.  Roderick loved it when I laughed at him.  I loved the way he squirmed for me.  Sitting back I chose a fat chunk of melon and popped it in my mouth, chewing slowly, savoring the juices bursting across my pallet.

“Take out your cock, Roderick.”

Roderick’s eyes popped wide.  “N-Now?”

I leveled him with a threatening stare.  I hated repeating myself.  “Reach under the table, unzip those expensive pants you’re wearing, and take out your dick…now.”

His mouth opened and closed like a fish trying to breathe out of water.  I stroked my bare foot up his leg, coaxing Roderick to do as I bid.  He looked defeated as he reached under the table cloth.  I smiled when I heard the tinkle of his belt buckle being splayed across his lap, the distinctive sound of his zipper.  I trailed my foot up his leg, dipping across his thigh until I felt Roderick’s cock.

I was right; he was hard

A Little Bit of Life

life

Hey all!

I can’t believe I almost let the month slip by without catching everyone up on some of the recent goings-on in my life.  Between work, moving, and writing I have been busy, busy, busy.  So where to begin…

First of all, let’s discuss the move.  Anyone who has ever moved probably knows the royal pain it can be, so I really don’t have any room to complain.  But at least we couldn’t have asked for a better day to do it. The sun was shining and the temperature reached the 70s.  Considering 2 days later is was snowy and cold, I think we picked the perfect time to lug all of our crap to a new city.  Once we were settled I could finally focus on writing again, and the various projects I have in the mix. Stay tuned for a few sexy snippets from those.

Which brings me to the writing itself.  Last month I tweeted out that I had too many literary irons in the proverbial fire.  That may have been an understatement. Besides the raunchy anthology I hope to have out in May, I have also rediscovered my passion project – a creative non-fiction piece I’ve been working on for 3 years now.  And by “working on” I mean taking notes and worrying incessantly over it.  Moving closer to the town I grew up in must have given me the push I needed to finally set pencil to paper – or, fingers to keyboard in this case.

So between working, editing, maintaining 2 blogs, and my other projects I have been a little busy, and it doesn’t show any sign of slowing down anytime soon.  But I’m up for it.  Now, if I could just work on some organizational skills I’ll be all set.

Anyways, that is what has been going on in my world.  Hope all is well in yours.  And don’t forget to check back in April for a sexy little m/m story I have planned for you sexy readers.  .

Until then…

R.

Revolution

revoution

It was a time of revolution, and so we holed ourselves up.  Bodies crushed together.  Naked flesh knitted to naked flesh like a finely stitched mesh.  We made love in that darkness until sweat wept from us.  Until the body was weak and we cried out from exhaustion.

The world could have ended beyond us, yet we were still here.

“I must fight now.”

“I know.”

“Think of me?”

“Always, my love.”

I hoisted my weapon as the skies lit up, not knowing when or where we should meet each other again.

An Update and a Sexy Excerpt

Happy New Year!

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday.  I know I did.  I got some wonderful feedback on my sexy short Cuck’d for Christmas and, to my blissful surprise, got a good deal of writing done for various projects I have in the mix.  While 2016 might have been a shit storm, it was a productive year for writing.

Now it’s back to the drawing (writing?) board.

I’ve picked up my Z Saga again, the book series that kicked off my self-publishing debut.  Z is a group of POV erotic short stories set against the backdrop of a zombie apocalypse.  I like writing about sex and I love zombies, so it sounded like a win-win.  And while there are a thousand different stories raging through my brain, Z truly has my heart.  Now, almost a year after releasing book 2 in the series, I’m back to writing on book 3.

Each story is written to stand alone, though each one play in to the larger narrative.  Z follows a ragtag group searching for haven in a fort somewhere in central Indiana.  The characters are as diverse as the zombies staggering after them, and the endings will leave you chomping at the bit for more.  You can find Book 1 (Jacobi’s Story) here, and Book 2 (Camille’s Story) here.

But don’t take my word for it.  Here is a little tantalizing teaser from Book 2 to tide you over.  Feel free to rate and write a review on Amazon.  Or just drop me a comment on here.  I would love to hear from you.

Until next month…

R.

Z

Sleep rarely came easy.

I lay there on a pallet of blankets beside Nadine on the storeroom floor, listening to her soft, rhythmic breathing and wondering how she was able to sleep so soundly after the things we’d seen these past few years.  It wasn’t long before I found myself thinking about Jacobi again.  Jacobi always slept like a baby.  Or so he liked to brag.  Jacobi Jameson was a lot of things—pompous and arrogant, a self proclaimed sex addict.  Humble didn’t make the list.

I tried to push him from my mind.

He’s fine, I told myself, not for the first time since leaving him alone to fight his way out of the barn.

I remembered the way he came crashing to our rescue in Chicago, all attitude and brawn and swinging that damn pickaxe of his.  The bastard always did think he was God’s gift to the universe.  Just happened that day he was.

Jacobi never noticed me as he led our little group across his makeshift system of planks, boards, and ladders he’d used to interconnect a few buildings via the rooftops.  The rooftops!  By then it had been more than a year since he left me, back when all of this shit started.  He was scruffier than before, just as big and built as I remembered.  By the time he noticed me in my blood-stained clothes and baseball cap that hid my red hair, the greeting was every bit as cold as I imagined.

“Cunt,” he bit.

“Asshole,” I fired back.

That night we fucked as if we hadn’t missed a beat.  It was the kind of sex fueled by years of anger and raw emotion and sexual need.  Jacobi pulled my hair, slapped my ass until I was on fire, squeezed my tits until I thought they might burst in his big, calloused hands.  All while his sex railed between my legs, filling me with an exquisite heat I hadn’t felt for too long.

I could almost feel him now.  So hard, so rough…with a steely tenderness I had never found from another man, including Damon.

A new heat ignited between my thighs.  I let my hand glide over the flat of my belly, beneath the waistband of my jeans, until I found that sensitive jumble of nerves Damon had used to torture me with earlier.  God, I was wet.  Moisture gathered in the cleft of my pussy as I parted my lips, stroking my clit and sending an electric current humming through my veins—stoking the fire in my belly to a roaring inferno.  My heartbeat quickened with my breath.  My legs parted with need.  I wanted to come…needed it…again…

I sensed Nadine shift on the floor beside me.  When I looked up, she was watching me through the darkness, head propped on her fist and smiling her plastic smile.  My hand jerked out of my jeans.  It was so dark in the storeroom, maybe she didn’t see.

“I…thought you were asleep.”

“Sorry,” whispered Nadine.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You weren’t interrupting,” I said, probably way too fast.  “I was just about to get up for my watch.”

Some of the heat left my pussy and filled my face.  At least in the darkness Nadine couldn’t see me blush.  I can’t believe Nadine of all people had just caught me masturbating.  How fucking humiliating!

Nadine lifted herself onto an elbow, the sheet covering her slipping down her lithe little body to expose the petite mounds of her breasts.  Our eyes met in one hungry moment, a sort of understood silence passing between us.  She reached for my hand with a warm, lover’s touch, bring my fingers to her lips and giving each digit a strange little kiss that made butterflies leap to life in my belly.

“Please, Cam, don’t let me stop you,” Nadine said.  Her voice, whispered in the storeroom, sounded sad.  “We get so few pleasures these days.  Please don’t let me stop you from feeling good in a world that is so bad.”

I found myself lying there beside her, Nadine guiding my hand back into my jeans…slowly…as if seeking consent with every inch I relented, edging my fingers closer and closer to the quiet hunger waiting between my legs.  A soft moan escaped my lips when I realized how aroused I was, how fucking wet I’d gotten from letting another woman manipulate me like this.

My breath hitched when I felt Nadine’s hand close gently over mine through the layer of my jeans, guiding my fingers into my pussy like the cock I so desperately needed.  My mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure, my hips rocking off the floor as Nadine began thrusting the palm of her hand gently against my crotch, fucking me with my own fingers.  Through a glaze of sweat I wondered if she sensed me come.

“Nadine, I…”

Before I could say more, her lips closed over mine, swallowing whatever I was going to say next.

And then we were kissing.

Until that moment I had never kissed another woman—had never even thought about it.  Nadine was gentler than Jacobi.  Softer than Damon.  I could only lay there, her breasts heavy against me, kissing her back.  Our hands moved in tandem, my hips thrusting greedily as she continued to fuck me, fueled as much by the new climax rising in my groin as Nadine’s eager tongue in my mouth.

I tumbled over the edge so completely I thought the moan rising in my throat might meet my lips.  My thighs snapped shut as the orgasm pounded through me, my free hand sandwiching Nadine’s over my jeans as I came for her again.  I collapsed in a breathless afterglow on the floor beside her, Nadine’s head resting on my shoulder.  She was watching me again, chewing her bottom lip like a flirting school girl.

I laughed.  “What?”

“See now,” she grinned.  “Don’t you feel better?”

I hated to admit it, but I did.

“Thanks,” I whispered, kissing her forehead.

When I looked up, Damon was standing in the door, silent and dark as the shadows that hid him.  I scooted away from Nadine, equal parts startled and mortified.  If Damon had seen us, he gave no sign of it.

“Your watch, Camille,” was all he said before climbing into the cot to sleep.  Like an obedient lapdog, Nadine climbed in with him.

 

 

Cuck’d for Christmas: A Preview

It’s live!  My new erotic short story Cuck’d for Christmas is available for purchase on Amazon, and to celebrate here is a sexy little excerpt.  Enjoy!

cuckedforchristmas

Marissa gazed down at her husband’s head tucked neatly between her silken thighs, spread just enough on the bed to allow Thom access to her hungry pussy.  Thom’s brow wrinkled beneath the beads of sweat forming there, nose nestled in Marissa’s smooth mound.  His committed tongue stroked little starbursts of pleasure across her clit, eliciting tiny whimpers from Marissa’s throat that begged for more…more…

…far more than Thom could give her.

More than once Marissa found her gaze drifting back to the TV Thom insisted on always keeping on in their bedroom.  The Weather Channel had promised a white Christmas and they had delivered on that promise a day early.  Christmas Eve, and the moving storm front, promised to stall holiday traffic across the county.

“You okay, babe?”

Marissa gave a little start when she realized Thom was watching her beneath heavy-lidded blue eyes.  She found herself looking him over as she so often did these days—his sandy blond hair swept sweatily to the side of his clean-shaven, almost boyish face, his broad shoulders and lean, ropey muscles that rippled as he pawed hungrily at the insignificant organ between his legs.

Thom waited on bended knee like a puppy waiting for a command, forever concerned about her pleasure.  Ordinarily he did wonders with his tongue and mouth and fingers, making Marissa cum until she trembled in orgasm before satisfying himself with her cunt.  How could she tell him that tonight he simply wasn’t enough?

“Babe…?”

“I’m fine,” Marissa said, grateful for the excuse of a police siren that lilted distantly on the icy night outside.  “I just can’t remember if I locked the door or not.  Could you run down and check for me?”

She wondered if her husband put voice to the lie, if he sensed the undulating need swelling in the pit of her belly.  But in typical Thom fashion he just sighed and rose naked from the bed.

“Sure, be right back.”

Good old, predictable Thom—non-confrontational, non-aggressive, a pacifist in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom.

When she was alone Marissa threw herself back on their bed.  What the hell’s wrong with me?  She told herself it was the stress of the holidays that kept her from focusing on their play, but Marissa knew it was much more than that.  Five years or marriage and Thom had never made her come, at least not with that puny thing between his legs—more veins and head than any real meat.

Thom knew it, too, and that only seemed to make it worse, to add to his masculine shame.  Sure he stepped it up other ways sexually, but in the end Marissa was never quite sated.  And tonight all of that pent up need seemed to pool in the pit of her belly like overflow from a flood.  If Thom ever asked her what she wanted for Christmas Marissa might have said, “The most mind-blowing fuck of my life!”

But Thom never asked, and Marissa could never bring herself to tell.

Marissa looked down at her naked, thirty year-old body, her tits heavy and flushed with the need burning her from the inside out.  Long black hair curled in ringlets around her breasts and she gave one of the silver rings spearing her nipples a harsh tug she felt deep in the folds of her cunt.  Her back arched.  Reaching between her legs she found her slit, still wet with Thom’s saliva, excruciatingly empty.  Not for the first time Marissa imagined someone other than Thom filling that void.

A strange scuffling noise downstairs pulled her from her fantasies of bigger cock.

“Thom?”

When he didn’t answer Marissa reached for her discarded robe on the floor, too aware of the sticky dampness coating her thighs.

“Thom, I swear to baby Christ you’d better not be fucking with me.”

What am I talking about?  Thom never fucks with anyone.

Marissa padded barefoot down the hall, robe swinging open behind her as she descended the stairs.  She always went all out for Christmas—garland, lights, presents, and, the show-stopper, the fresh cut Christmas tree she and Thom had picked out together a few nights before, fully loaded with ornaments, ribbon, twinkling lights, and displayed in full-view in front of the bay window.  The smell of pine needles and fresh-baked gingerbread cookies still cooling on the kitchen counter filled her nose when she rounded the corner.

Marissa froze.

Standing in their living room near the fireplace was a man.  Firelight twinkled in his dark eyes as he drew Marissa in with his gaze.  He looked Latino, a head taller than her husband and thick with muscle that bulged beneath the orange jumpsuit he wore.  One powerful arm hooked around his throat held Thom’s naked body at bay.

“No sudden moves lady or I’ll snap this vato’s neck right here.”

Marissa couldn’t move if she wanted.  Panic threatened to cripple her right there in the living room.  Danger crackled on the air like electricity, sending a cold chill rippling through her.

“Take anything you want.”  She struggled to keep her voice level.  “Just don’t hurt him.”

“Fresh clothes,” the stranger growled, his voice tinged with an accent.  “Rapita chica!  Go!”

Marissa raced back upstairs, arousal replaced by adrenaline as she tore through the dresser drawers looking for something that might fit the intruder.  He was so much bigger than Thom, especially through his chest.  None of Thom’s shirts would fit.  In the end she settled on a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else.

A flash from the television caught her attention.  Clutching Thom’s sweats to her chest, Marissa eyed the words emblazoned across the bottom of the screen.

Manhunt Underway for Escaped Inmate